Their Story
by Anezcake
Summary: Ever wonder what the other tributes in the Hunger Games were thinking/feeling? Have you wondered what their lives must have been like? If they felt like they had a chance or knew they were going to die? What their names might have been?


**The Parade**

Each year 2 kids from each of the 12 Districts of Panem are reaped as tributes for a yearly event called the Hunger Games. In the Hunger Games these tributes fight to the death until there is only one left standing, he or she is then declared victor of that Hunger Games.

**Michael**

The prep team dress me up in a strange outfit, silver colored material with large white beads lined up in rows across the chest and pants. My stylist let them do most of the work, while he just stood around lazily and gave orders when he felt like they were needed. Honestly, I think we all think the outfit is pretty poor, as if the stylist didn't want to have to work for District 9 because there is not much you can do with grain.  
From what I have seen from the past years every stylist feels this way. They throw some white beads on some cloths and say is represents the district. I honestly don't care about the event at all. It's really stupid.

After a few minutes of "hard work" they step back to take in their "wonderful" job.

"It's SO cute on you!" A younger girl with light pink skin and hair a similar color with purple highlight and big blue eyes squeals. "It may not be the best image to work with, but people will surly remember district 9's costumes THIS year!" It is strange listening to her talk, how high-pitched she was and the Capitol accent only adding to the effect. But I find myself wanting to hear her say more.

"Don't forget it's not YOUR work, it's Julius's. You did wonderful, Julius." A dark skinned man says to the stylist. "It keeps getting better and better."

Julius shrugs at this. "I try." He says, dragging out the word in a deep voice. Julius is a tall, pale man, wearing a bright green suit with vibrant red hair. His face is painted white with power making it seem like the only features he has are eyes, nostrils, and a slit for a mouth. It frightens me, also meaning I'm thankful he has seemed so uninterested in helping the prep team.

"Alright, lets get you out to the parade." Says another of the stylists, who seems to be the most normal of them all aside from all the sequins on his cloths.

Britney, the girl tribute from my district, and her stylist and prep team wait by the elevators for us. She is dressed in a similar outfit, except the neckline is overflowing with dark silver ruffles and not studded with bronze.

"I don't like this much." She sighs quietly. I say nothing back, wanting nothing more than to not have a conversation with her.

When I met her the reaping day, all she did was cry. Loudly. And complain when she finally quit crying. By today all she wanted to do was talk at every chance she was given.

After a few very short minutes we were ushered into the elevators.

**Marissa**

The prep team has me all dressed up in a flowy grey dress with reflective silver squares covering it. They have Buzz and I wearing similar, stupid headdresses that look like gears. The top gear moves a little.

Even though I find it silly, I have a feeling the Capitol people will be impressed. That's a good thing, isn't it? It is the first step to getting sponsors. I try my best to put on a smile for the prep team, knowing how hard they worked on all of this.

I thanked them all properly as we made our way down with the elevator to the area where we would get in the chariots. Our chariot is going to be pulled by two large gray horses with big black blotches. They put Buzz and I up on the chariot and wait for everyone else to get ready and in line.

Strangely, I am reminded of something in my childhood.

When I was 12 years old, right before the first reaping I was eligible for, my mother signed me up for a beauty pageant for children. They did everything they could, my mom and my aunt, to make me stand out the most.

They dressed me up in shiny white, silver, and gold cloths. Made my eyelashes thick and long, framing my green eyes. Put glitter in my hair.

"The more you stand out to the judges, the more they will like you," My mother told me. "The more of a chance you will have at winning."

The sectioned us off in age groups, mine being 11-13 year-olds. A lot of other young girls from my age group pranced around, flipping their hair. Some strutted like I had seen models from the Capitol do. I tried to pick up these tricks, thinking they were interesting and it would work in my favor.

By the end of the night I was just like the rest of them, batting my eyelashes, giggling like the older girls when they talk to boys, and flipping my hair from off my shoulders every now and then.

I didn't stand out from any of the other girls. I had managed to make myself exactly like them, no matter how pretty or interesting I looked, and was unmemorable. The judges just looked me over, and I lost.

Just like today, if I just stand on that chariot and wave like everyone else, no one will remember me. But what all can I do? I huff with frustration and look around to see the other tributes. One catches my eye.

**Kyle**

I'm feeling nervous as I stand my the chariot for district 4, they have yet to set me up on it, but most the other tributes are already ready. I take this opportunity to look at the horses, they have strange, gauzy harnesses to pull out chariot with. At least it looks similar to Mist's and mine outfits. Light blue togas, some white fish netting around the waist for me and Mist's the other girls whole dress.

Unlike me, she has on this huge, elegant headdress that catches every ounce of like and reflects it. Just like the ocean.

District 4, fishing and stuff. I honestly am not great at fishing, and kind of hate water. So her headdress isn't comforting, and neither is the fish netting. But I like the gauzy feeling of my outfit, and the smooth sandals on my feet.

My stylist, Adina, comes over and grabs my hand. She's a funny-looking woman, with her features very sharp, huge almost fake looking yellow eyes as bright as the sun, and thin, pursed lips. One of my mentors, Finnik, follows behind her.

"Just go up there, smile, and wave. Don't forget to look good." Finnik laughs. I look down at myself. I'm aware oh my curly strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Most people say I look like a ginger, most of the people who say that don't find me attractive. But my stylist and prep team did all they could to highlight my good features and change the bad. When I saw myself in a merrier earlier, I had to admit I did look a lot better compared to normal.

Though, this is all for the games. And I don't want to be here. I want to be home, in my bed down the hall from my mom and dad, a few feet away from my older brother, down the road from my grandparents who have managed to make it well into their 60's.

I guess my face is getting red because Finnik shoos Adina away and stands in front of me.

"You can't get upset now. You have to look strong when you go out there. If anyone, the capitol people or the other tributes, see you like this, you will be labeled weak. No one wants to sponsor a weakling, and the others will see you as an easy target. You're not an easy target, you're good, you have a chance at living through this. Understand?"

I nod, though, I disagree. Just looking around at the tributes I already have written myself out of these games. I am as good as gone, I am one of the smallest, unfit out of this group and everyone can see that. I'm even not a lot compared to this years tributes from District 12, and that is saying something.

Though, I try to listen to Finnik, because he knows best. He did win this thing, so he knows what he's talking about. I just hope it works for me.

* * *

**A/N: Each chapter is going to have three different tributes' p.o.v.'s. I don't think this is a great first chapter, but it will get better.**


End file.
